The Sleeping Red-Head
by Yombatable
Summary: Arthur wasn't usually a particularly giving person. He was, in fact, what you might call a colossal arsehole. So he wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't pushed the sleeping bastard off of his shoulder yet. EngIre. One-Shot.


**I'm not sure why I wrote this. Well, I am, it's because I am thirsty for EngIre fluff, but idk why this is the thing I wrote specifically. Also idk how to write Ireland, please forgive me. idk a lot of things. I'm a mess of a human...**

 **Enjoy! ;)**

* * *

Arthur wasn't usually a particularly giving person. Now, when it came to certain people he'd admit that he could be a pushover, but for the most part, to the stranger on the street, he was what you might call a colossal arsehole.

So he wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't pushed the sleeping bastard off of his shoulder yet.

When the guy next to him had first fallen asleep, it had been with his head lolling dangerously forward, and slumped so far over that Arthur had tipped him back simply so the poor git wouldn't break his neck should they make a right-hand turn. The guy was young, older than him by a few years if he had to guess, but still in his twenties, with curly hair the colour of a particularly vibrant carrot, and the amount of freckles one would expect to go along with hair of that shade.

In hindsight, it was probably Arthur's weakness for red-heads.

It had taken three turns and one particularly sharp acceleration, for the guy's head to fall onto his shoulder, with a grunt and a low murmur of something Arthur couldn't make out through the thick accent that was too briefly uttered to pin-point. He even had the gall to smile contentedly, which was too sweet to even _try_ to stop, especially since it brought a slight pink tint to the guy's cheeks which made his freckles stand out even more.

Yes, it was almost definitely his weakness for red-heads...

Arthur received a few strange looks from other passengers, but simply scowled at them in response. That was usually enough to make them turn away and return to ignoring him, and he was glad for it. It just meant he didn't have to disturb the sleeping red-head by getting up to deal with ignorant arseholes.

One old lady seemed to be finding the whole situation rather amusing, on the other end of the spectrum, occasionally glancing up from her book to smile to herself when the red-head snorted in his sleep or mumbled something unintelligible. Arthur raised his eyebrow at her amusedly, to which she only waved him off with a scrunch of her nose and a light chuckle.

The guy woke up ten minutes and six stops later. His eyes blinked open wearily, his face scrunching up as he yawned widely. Arthur snorted to himself as the guy realized he was laying on a stranger and sat bolt upright, waking up comically quickly from his impromptu nap on Arthur's person.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that!" He laughed, in an accent Arthur now recognized as Irish, his face going even redder than before as he rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. Arthur couldn't help himself from thinking the guy looked nice when he was blushing.

It's a shame he was probably straight, because Arthur had been looking for a guy recently and his usual fuck-buddies may have been able to satisfy his physical needs but honestly they day he cuddled with Francis would be the day his soul had officially left his body and he'd been replaced by a pathetic sop. And sure, Alistair liked to cuddle after sex, but he wasn't sure he really had a choice either way in that regard, the lout was so heavy trying to pry him off could only even lead to disaster.

Was he thinking about cuddling with a stranger?

Well, yes, in an indirect way he supposed he was, but that hair looked downright comfortable. He almost wished he'd taken his own nap, so then he could have tested out that theory. It just looked so springy and soft, and he could most certainly imagine waking up to a face full of it and-

Wait, no, that was creepy.

Arthur smiled amusedly, shaking his head of his thoughts, "Not a problem, mate, you looked like you needed the sleep."

The red-head coughed lightly in embarrassment, "Yeah, I'm sorry though. That was awkward for the both of us. Shit, right…" He looked down at the floor, muttering something under his breath.

Arthur shrugged, "Like I said."

"I guess." The red-head frowned, once again coughing awkwardly. He looked up and out the window before groaning, "Ah fuck, I missed my stop."

Arthur chuckled, "I could have let you fall on your face."

The guy puffed out a laugh, putting his head in his hands, "I at least would have woken up in time then."

"In that case I apologize."

The guy shook his head, "Nah, don't do that, she's used to it by now."

Arthur for a moment considered asking who 'she' was (probably his girlfriend, he noted irritably), but decided that if their positions were reversed, he wouldn't want the guy prying, and instead decided simply to pat the guy on the shoulder.

"Ah fuck she's gonna kill me," he sighed, leaning back in the chair, "Maybe I just shouldn't go."

"Well, that's up to you mate," Arthur said, holding back a laugh.

"You're right, I'll just ride the bus until I reach a remote town and hide there until she forgets we had plans."

This time Arthur did laugh. "What a lucky girl she is."

The guy shrugged, "She's my sister, she'd obliged to love me."

Sister? Good. That was what Arthur would most certainly call a step in the right direction. He noted briefly that he really shouldn't be so eager to find out if this guy with whom he'd conversed for not even a full minute was of his persuasion, but perhaps it was something about seeing the guy still blushing through his freckles as his slightly shaggy ringlets fell into his face…

Dear lord did he have a thing for red-heads.

Arthur hummed, "Not true, she's obliged to put up with you, no more."

"Gee, way to make me feel better about all of this," The guy laughed, making Arthur glance down at his lips as they twisted into a wide smile.

A mistake, he'd grant, but he quickly rectified it with a clever quip and the two of them ended up talking until Arthur's stop arrived five minutes later. When he stood to get out, waving amusedly at the red-head, he noticed, even more amusedly, that the old lady was peering at him over her book with a twinkle of laughter in her eye.

He barely made it five steps out of the bus before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, ready to swear loudly at whoever it was, but stopped short when he saw the red head, who frowned, considering something before holding out a hand, "I'm Seamus, by the way."

Arthur shook it, smiling despite himself, "Arthur, a pleasure."

The red-head, now Seamus (and Arthur couldn't help but roll his eyes at how the name didn't even surprise him), offered a half confident, half cautious smile, "Uh, I know this is a long shot, and you have every right to turn me down, but you don't happen to want to go for a pint, do you?"

Arthur was surprised for a moment, unsure of how to respond, but as he eyed the way those freckled cheeks heated up again under his gaze he allowed himself the tiniest of smiles, "You wouldn't happen to have an ulterior motive, would you?"

Seamus' lips twitched up into a smile, and Arthur really cursed his weakness for red-heads because he really shouldn't find brown dots littering someone's skin quite so charming. And the way he laughed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, the carrot-coloured curls sticking up in all directions, making it even worse than it already was from his impromptu nap, was all too alluring.

Was alluring the right word? He wasn't sure.

Well, whatever the case, the guy had serious balls to come up and flat out ask him for a drink then and there. Arthur was unfortunate enough to find courage an attractive feature.

He sent Arthur a cocky half-smile, "Only if you're into guys."

Arthur bit his lip in amusement, "Only if they're worth my time."

Seamus' smile even seemed to widen at that, "I'll pay."

Arthur rolled his eyes, deciding that returning home to his empty flat could wait a while, he'd just had a handsome man handed to him on a silver platter after all. His cat could survive a few more hours, might knock the smarmy git down a few pegs. He walked over to Seamus with a look of haughty amusement, "Brilliant, I know a great pub five minutes down the road."

Seamus seemed almost shocked for a time, but soon regained himself when Arthur touched his arm and hooked them together, "Perfect! Let's go!"

* * *

When Arthur awoke, it was to a mouthful of hair. He coughed, turning his head to the side, making the person the hair belonged to groan and tuck their head tightly into his shoulder. It took Arthur peeling his eyes open, and glancing to the side to realize who it was whose carrot-coloured hair he'd inhaled.

"Seamus," he grumbled, pushing at the other man until he rolled off of him, earning only a tired whimper in response, "You stupid lout, I can't breathe."

Seamus rolled back, his arms wrapping tightly around Arthur's body, "I don't care. It's cold. You're comfy."

With a huff of breath, Arthur rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around the other man as well, "I shouldn't have been surprised that you were a cuddler, should I?"

"Not really," Seamus replied, waving a hand dismissively, "And we've known each other for an entire week, you should know me better than that by now."

Arthur snorted, "Oh yes, we're practically life-long friends."

Seamus peered up at him through sleep-sealed eyes, "Well you've had my cock in your arse."

"Plenty of people have had their cock in my arse." Arthur replied, raising an eyebrow.

Seamus pouted, "And here I thought I was special."

With a quiet laugh, Arthur tilted Seamus' head up so he could kiss him, slowly and lazily. Seamus pushed up the bed, rolling over further so he was straddling Arthur's waist, his arms sliding up to cage Arthur's head, as Arthur's own twisted into his messy ginger curls. Miniscule, sleep-addled moans drifted through their lips as they kissed and pressed together, Arthur's hands soon moving from Seamus' hair to his freckle-covered shoulders and down his arms until he found his thin-fingered hands and twisted them with his own.

He pulled out of the kiss for a moment, nipping at Seamus' jaw playfully, "Prove to me you're special, poppet, and I'll believe it."

And Seamus happily obliged.


End file.
